Incarnation
by catsvrsdogscatswin
Summary: AU. "I never drink…wine." she said in amusement. Alucard glared at the vampire before him with narrowed eyes. "You won't be sucking blood, either." he replied dangerously. She raised an arrogant eyebrow as he aimed his guns at her heart, smirking a little in her omnipotence. "You're a human. What could you possibly do to harm me?" she replied serenely, shadows coiling around her.
1. Gott Mit Uns (God With Us)

_**So…wazzup? I know I should be working on my Scrap fic, or my Higurashi story, or my Soul Eater story, or my Hetalia story, but I promised that I would post this and, well, I just sorta felt like it. For those of you who wonder, a few months ago **__ninjadaleburg__** posted a story about her having writer's block for an absolutely fantanbulous idea, and me being me, I immediately got inspired to write yet another story that won't ever earn me money. Sooo, any kudos and credit goes first to **__ninejadaleburg__**, because I'm simply taking their idea and running with it. Quite literally. That being said, this is probably the AU-est AU I've ever written (*cough* because I've written **__so__** many *cough*), so don't expect to immediately recognize anyone.**_

Pairings:

Alucard/Integra (maybe), Enrico/Integra (one-sided if at all), Alucard/Seras (probably not), and most likely nothing else.

Rating:

T for swearing (because it'll happen sooner or later), T for bloodshed (And you didn't see this coming because…?), and T for any other offensive, blasphemous, or shocking things I manage to work in before I get to the final chapter.

Notes before I start:

Most of this will be set in the Dracula timeline, but neither Mina nor Lucy will be showing up. Also, a lot of characters will be going through a species change, but I don't feel the need for a gender-swap…yet. There will be some supporting OCs scattered hither and yon as well.

_**April 16, 2015**_

* * *

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

The storm boiled outside the glass windows of the estate. Lightning flashed and crashed as a counterpoint to the howling winds, which drove buckets of rain and hail against the ancient, sturdy walls of the well-appointed manor. Indoors, the gloomy mood of the grey-black clouds was reflected imperfectly in the lack of man and beast alike. Maids and manservants had fled to their respective cubbyholes, canoodling or reading as their inter-household relationships required. The soldiers were either on leave or huddled, soggy messes that patrolled the grounds and perimeter.

Inside the office which had seen generations of her kind, a lone woman flipped through the tattered, dog-eared pages of a book with leisurely grace. Her ice-blue eyes scanned the spidery, endless letters patiently, her posture and bearing curiously stiff and upright, as if by habit. The storm may boom and crack all it liked, but she was safe within the hallowed walls of her mansion, and wished to relax in the rare moment of peace she was currently afforded. The flames in the fireplace flickered a little and dimmed as the shadows in the corners of the room suddenly deepened and opened crimson-red eyes, slowly drawing together to form the shape of a human –or human seeming– body. The woman in her armchair did not react to this unearthly display, although by the way the temperature of the room abruptly dropped, she surely must have noticed its presence.

The riding boots upon the shadowy figure's feet made no sound against the cold marble floor as they advanced upon the seated woman, as if a shadow in a dream, and ice-cold fingers, wrapped in white silk and red pentagrams, reached out for the neck.

"You are up quite late, milady." they observed, trailing the deathly touch of their icy fingers down the woman's neck. "Reading your family history, again?"

The blonde in the chair looked up. "I don't have to justify myself to you." she observed dryly. "And a grown woman may stay up as late as she wishes."

A bone white smile flashed itself across the darkness of the figure's shadowy face. "Too true, milady." they agreed silkily, and subtly glowing red eyes moved to the book's cover, and narrowed with dislike. "At least you could have the good taste to read a _true_ account of your family history." they noted icily, and the woman in the chair smiled, placing the book on the nearby nightstand. The gold-embossed word "_Dracula_" gleamed in the ever-dimmer light of the flames, suppressed by the figure beside her. She folded her legs, looking up at the towering, shadow-shrouded figure above her.

"Still bitter, vampire?" she asked with a faint smirk, her sapphire eyes gleaming behind the lenses of her glasses. The figure, now identified, swayed over to the window, looking out at the lightning and thunderous crashing across the grounds, and was silent for a while.

"Not bitter, milady. Just peeved." they finally said, folding arms covered in an expensive Italian suit. "Your great-grandfather changed many things, and that was before he handed his notes to that idiot Stoker."

Thunder boomed as a fork of lightning raced across the sky just above the estate, suddenly illuminating the room. The brief flash of brightness glinted off the vampire's long hair, cascading in a golden sheet to her ribs, and eyes darker than the deepest pits of hell. One fang peeked out over her lip as she grinned ferally.

"Beautiful night, isn't it, milady?"

"As a human, I think a bit differently, Integra."

* * *

_1898  
London, England:_

* * *

When most noblemen went for a walk, they didn't think. They just walked. Perhaps they discussed things with a comrade, or maybe mused over their conquests of the day, but by and large, most noblemen went for a walk because they felt the need to stretch their legs, and not to mull over deep philosophical questions.

That, Alucard thought as he trudged through the grounds of his estate, was a very unfair thing. What made it even more unfair was the subject of his deep philosophical question, namely; why did God hate him so much, if He existed at all? _Most _nobles went for a walk for casual exercise. _Most _nobles walked out and came back in the same state of dress that they went out with. _Most_ nobles got pleasure from their walks.

He dragged in a deep sigh of remorse and self-pity through his nose, closing his eyes wearily.

Of course, most nobles were not vampire hunters as well.

When _Alucard_ went out for a walk, it was usually because Her Majesty or one of her advisors had found out about a vampire slaughtering an entire township and needed him to stop it before the countryside was overrun. When _Alucard_ was sent out on one of his "walks", he usually came back gore-spattered, his suit in bloody shreds, sometimes cut and bruised, liberally marked with the blackish blood of ghouls and the crimson of vampires and their human victims. When _Alucard_ came back from his walks, in was usually in a state of benumbed exhaustion both mental and physical, and so dog-tired he almost didn't know where he was going.

_Thud._

Alucard's eyebrow's twitched slightly in irritation. He briefly debated whether or not swearing would be worth the effort, but decided that he needed to save most of his energy for rising off the front-door step. He felt at least two of the wounds in his back reopen (ghoul with a pitchfork, how original) as he shifted weakly in an attempt to rise, and began rethinking his decision not to swear. He heard the door creak open and sighed, his cheekbone resting uncomfortably against the corner of the second step. "Not one word, Walter." he muttered hoarsely, and heard his oldest retainer cough politely, hiding a snicker. "I wouldn't dream of it, sir." he said smoothly, grabbing his employer and oldest friend under the arms and dragging him into the house.

Alucard deemed it safe to relax, for a time at least, as he was hauled onto a cot and unceremoniously surveyed. "You know my lord, it would be a great deal easier for you if you let some of Her Majesty's soldiers take care of the ghouls, at least." Walter observed dispassionately from above him, and one corner of Alucard's lips twitched. "That would just make more work for me; they'd be eaten alive before they walked two steps." he murmured, and opened his hazel eyes to view his butler and friend with a weary grin. "Besides, I like taking care of things myself."

A roll of bandages hit him in the chest. "If you like taking care of things so much, start cleaning yourself up and leave me to my duties." Walter replied, a disparaging glimmer in his steel-grey eyes. Alucard smirked back, starting to unbutton what was left of his shirt. He knew Walter would stay nearby, in case his lord and master truly did need help, but most of his treatment would be rendered by himself, and no other. He watched through narrowed eyes as Walter turned to give an order to a dallying maid in the entrance hall, sending her off with a squeal. He still didn't quite have the hang of the English language, at least not the smooth, flowing cadence that was Walter, his gift as a _native_ Englishman.

Alucard, on the other hand, was from a long line of minor Romanian nobility, all of whom were _quite_ aware of the fact that the many disappearances and deaths out in the world were not _all_ due to the living. He'd come to England about three years ago, following an especially powerful vampire than had taken him six weeks and a two-day battle to defeat, the memory of which that still caused him to wince in pain. He had been witnessed, somehow, by English Queen or one of her many guard dogs, and they had accosted him as he was about to board the ship back home and practically begged him to stay in England. To his mild surprise, the so-proper English had regulated vampires and the like to the back of their minds as things that didn't exist _decades_ ago.

That, to a so-called "rustic" like him, was stupidity in its highest form_. "There's no such thing as monsters, vampires don't exist, ghouls are figments of your imagination"._ He was sure that there were _words_ for how damned bloody idiotic that was in English, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember any of them. That, and Walter probably refused to utter them in his presence for fear of his notoriously foul-mouthed master repeating them later. Alucard had no shame in admitting the fact he used colorful language when startled, angry, tired, upset, or emotionally charged in any way, but apparently in England, it just wasn't done. He grunted as he tied the last of the bandages, and sucked in another deep breath, lying back against the cot.

He was just going to lay here until he got his second wind, and then write his report to the bloody English nobles.

* * *

_**5.49 PM, USA Central Time**_


	2. Zorn (Anger)

_**Hey**__ The Keeper of Worlds__**! Don't worry, all shall be explained soon…very soon…as soon as I can manage…yeah. I'm trying. Keep in mind, I'm trying out a new style of writing here. I'm doing the best I can! For other people who wonder, which I'm sure is everyone who has read this thus far, the parts with Alucard are in the past, which is where I will be MAINLY setting the story, but the other parts are with the current day "Hellsing" organization and its owner/heir/whatever and all the other loveable residents. Okay? Moving on~! I also apologize for any butchering of accents or dialects, as I am American and cannot speak nor write proper English at all, and am doing the best with what I have.**_

_**April 16, 2015**_

* * *

_3__rd__ Person POV:_

Sir Celia Wynter Alyson Harker whistled absently as she sorted files, her elbow-length blonde hair tied back behind her ears in a sloppy, slightly ragged ponytail. The storm had passed, and the young heiress was left to her own devices as the not-quite-suspicious lull in vampire activity was still in full effect, and her idea of recreation, much to the puzzlement of the rest of the manor, was to sort the old, old case files, the ones that her great-grandfather and his colleagues had written. Celia wasn't sure why, but she just loved the way her ancestor had written his accounts. Most of them had small, sly bits of humor tucked in amongst the casualty reports, supply list, finances needed, and she always enjoyed reading them.

The subtle decrease in temperature of the air around her signaled the arrival of the Harker family's vampire, and she lowered the file currently in her hands. "Yes Integra, what is it?" she asked briskly as the vampiress melted through thin air, her reddish shadows reforming into her usual, primly aristocratic state. Her ruby-red eyes were focused on the file Celia held, and a faint smirk drifted around her fanged mouth. "Reading about your ancestor again?" she asked dryly, tilting her head to the side as her ash-blonde hair, far longer than Celia's, swayed behind her back like it had a life of its own.

Well, Integra _was_ a vampire. It might very well.

"You knew my great-grandfather very well, didn't you?" Celia asked absently as she looked back down at the file, and Integra smiled faintly, catching the younger woman's eye. "What?" she asked sharply, and the undead female smiled wider. "My apologies, milady." she purred, bowing slightly from the waist. Celia could never understand why Integra insisted on wearing suits, even when going incognito. "But I think he was very like you. Always trying to catch me off guard with those pointed questions of his, and…" She trailed off, still smiling, and Celia narrowed her eyes. "And _what_?" she asked with faint suspicion, and Integra smirked. "And a very good master, just like you. Tolerant, patient, cunning, and ruthless." Celia raised an eyebrow at the surprisingly generous remark. "Is that so?"

"Exactly so. Would I lie to my master?"

* * *

_1898  
London, England:_

* * *

"_LA DRACU, DE CE __Î__N NUMELE LUI HRISTOS AU SUNT DE ACORD VREODAT__Â__ LA CHESTIA ASTA!_"

_**CRASH!**_

_**SMASH!**_

_**BANG!**_

"Oh dear, it sounds as if Master's in a temper again." Yumiko sighed, pushing her glasses up her nose as Seras paused mid-sip and involuntarily looked up over the rim of her teacup and at the ceiling, where the sounds of lusty and furious battle raged above. "Oh bloody hell, what's wrong with him now?" she sighed, setting the delicate china down on the well-worn wood of the kitchen counter. Both maids had been working at the estate long enough to know that such temper-tantrums came often, came ferociously, and anyone who intruded upon them often left in a stretcher.

One of the manservants popped his head in as the yelling and sounds of smashing crockery, furniture, or whatever-it-was intensified, causing the ultra-shy Yumiko to squeak and blush at the sight of the newcomer. "All hell's ragin' on up above." he observed gloomily, not attempting to enter any further into the room. "Master's gone an' got 'imself into a pet 'cause of whatever new problem the toffs 'ave laid on 'is plate. Wouldn't fancy being in house after tea." he rattled off, then darted back into the hallway, no doubt seeking, like all other servants, the farthest spot in the manor away from the epicenter of rage in the main office.

Seras, being one of the head maids, was not afforded such a luxury, but Yumiko, as one of the gardening staff, could easily escape out of the building if she so pleased, and looked liable to do so at the first opportunity. Seras sighed wistfully as she picked up her teacup again. "It would be grand if Master wasn't so foreign, and we could know what's bothering him so." She said pensively, and Yumiko nervously pushed her glasses up once more. "Probably something to do with his job." she said carefully, for being just as "foreign" as their shared master, her English was not perfect. It was, however, far better than her twin sister Yumie's, which verged just short of incomprehensible. _Luckily, we don't have to deal with Yumie unless a vampire attacks the manor._ Seras observed with secret relief, because Yumie was…a great less pleasant than her younger twin, and far less civilized. She was lucky to have a job at all, but Master Alucard couldn't be everywhere, and they needed someone to protect the grounds at night. Yumiko, who was so meek and gentle she couldn't hurt a fly, was much better suited to the tending of plants and flowers.

Both girls winced as another roar of incomprehensible Romanian boomed out above their heads, accompanied by a rending crash that sounded as if the master of the manse was destroying a desk with his bare hands. "I suppose it's lucky he hasn't learned all the English he needs to curse, or every lady in the house would quit." Seras murmured wryly as she took another sip of tea, and Yumiko giggled shyly.

Meanwhile, three floors above the gossiping maids, the subject of their derision was pacing agitatedly across the polished mahogany floor of his office. "THIS!" he snarled as he waved the offending piece of paper in Walter's face, his control of English already far regressed from his usual quick fluency. Walter did not attempt to grab the paper, perhaps out of fear that Alucard would break his hand if he tried. Although the young Romanian aristocrat knew that Walter could probably calm him down, he also knew that Walter would let his anger run its course, because more often than not, if it was repressed, his anger would break out when he was slaughtering vampires, which often ended badly for him. Best to let him vent, was what was no doubt running through the older man's mind, an attitude Alucard both resented and was grateful to.

He threw the heavy parchment on his desk in disgust. "A ball! A bloody _ball_!" he snarled, his hazel eyes practically glowing with rage. He whipped away from the desk and continued to pace, the fabric of his dark suit fluttering behind him. "They have the –the _frivolity_ to invite me to some kind of, of-" He seethed for a moment, vainly attempting to call up the English rendition of the word, before finally giving up. "-some kind of _prostesc_ ball! Am I not _busy_ enough for them!? I've killed dozens of _their _vampires, slaughtered hundreds of _their_ ghouls in protection of _their _citizens, and they think I have the time and health to attend a _ball_!"

Walter, wisely, did not reply.

"My wounds won't heal for another three days! And after that, you _know_ the Queen will send me out on _another_ mission! She won't fail to! I'm the best damn hunter you English have got!" Alucard continued, kicking the chair in front of him and sending it crashing to the ground, his clenched fists trembling at his sides.

Walter finally decided to interject. "If I may, my lord," he began, readying his microfilament wires in case they were needed. "You could always reject the invitation."

Alucard sent him a single look of disbelief. "The rest of your English nobles all despise me for being _not_ an _English_ nobleman, and you want me to give them more fuel for their fires?" he asked icily, and Walter coughed.

"It seems like your best option, sir. That is, if attending is so much of a bother for you." he pointed out delicately, and Alucard silently fumed, striding over to the fireplace and ruthlessly stirring the flames with an iron poker, his face set in a pained grimace. Walter watched him for a while, his frown increasing slightly and deepening the faint wrinkles at the edges of his eyes and mouth. Alucard had indeed progressed far from the arrogant, demanding Romanian that had accosted him over a vampire's ashes and demanded recompense, but his temper still got the best of him…often, if Walter was to be fair. "I might also add, sir, that some of the higher class of vampires may chance at attending. It is, after all, open to guests, and the blood of the nobility is something vampires don't taste often." he hinted, and Alucard's head came up like a dog catching a scent as he eyed the older, more experienced hunter watchfully.

"You've seen this before?" he asked warily, and Walter nodded quietly. "Oftentimes, it's the truly elder vampires that attend such events, as they are so much better at disguising their true nature. Younger ones are too inexperienced and leery of so many important, oftentimes well-aware humans all in the same place. Too many people could notice them for what they are, which is exactly why the oldest Nosferatu can't resist going. Baiting the bear, as it were, except that they also stand a chance of feeding off it."

Alucard pursed his lips and gestured irritably towards the innocent-seeming velum. "Fine. I'll sign it. God knows I'm going to regret it either way…" he muttered, retreating into the dark shadows of the nearby shelves as he no doubt searched for a book to take the edge off his anger.

* * *

_**8.48 PM, USA Central Time**_


End file.
